"Oh no - Professor, can't I go and do the trophy room,
too?" said Harry desperately.

Chapter: 7

Both he and Ron felt they'd got the worse deal.

"Filch'll have me there all night," said Ron
heavily. "No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room.
I'm no good at Muggle cleaning."

Chapter: 7

The rest of Harry's sentence was drowned out by a high-pitched
mewling from somewhere near his ankles. He looked down and found himself
gazing into a pair of lamp-like yellow eyes. It was Mrs. Norris, the skeletal
gray cat who was used by the caretaker, Argus Filch, as a sort of deputy
in his endless battle against students.

"You'd better get out of here, Harry," said Nick
quickly. "Filch isn't in a good mood - he's got the flu and some third
years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon
five. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all
over the place -"

"Right," said Harry, backing away from the accusing
stare of Mrs. Norris, but not quickly enough. Drawn to the spot by the mysterious
power that seemed to connect him with his foul cat, Argus Filch burst suddenly
through a tapestry to Harry's right, wheezing and looking wildly about for
the rule-breaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head,
and his nose was unusually purple.

"Filth!" he shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes
popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from
Harry's Quidditch robes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough
of it, I tell you! Follow me, Potter!"

So Harry waved a gloomy good-bye to Nearly Headless Nick
and followed Filch back downstairs, doubling the number of muddy footprints
on the floor.

Harry had never been inside Filch's office before; it was
a place most students avoided. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by
a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried
fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls;
from their labels, Harry could see that they contained details of every
pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George Weasley had an entire drawer
to themselves. A highly polished collection of chains and manacles hung
on the wall behind Filch's desk. It was common knowledge that he was always
begging Dumbledore to let him suspend students by their ankles from the
ceiling. Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuffling
around looking for parchment.

"It's only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it's
an extra hour scrubbing!" shouted Filch, a drip shivering unpleasantly
at the end of his bulbous nose. "Crime . . . befouling the castle .
. . suggested sentence . . ." Dabbing at his streaming nose, Filch
squinted unpleasantly at Harry who waited with bated breath for his sentence
to fall. But as Filch lowered his quill, there was a great BANG! on the
ceiling of the office, which made the oil lamp rattle.

"PEEVES!" Filch roared, flinging down his quill
in a transport of rage. "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!"
And without a backward glance at Harry, Filch ran flat-footed from the office,
Mrs. Norris streaking alongside him.

Peeves was the school poltergeist, a grinning, airborne
menace who lived to cause havoc and distress. Harry didn't much like Peeves,
but couldn't help feeling grateful for his timing. Hopefully, whatever Peeves
had done (and it sounded as though he'd wrecked something very big this
time) would distract Filch from Harry. Thinking that he should probably
wait for Filch to come back, Harry sank into a moth-eaten chair next to
the desk. There was only one thing on it apart from his half-completed form:
a large, glossy, purple envelope with silver lettering on the front. With
a quick glance at the door to check that Filch wasn't on his way back, Harry
picked up the envelope and read: Kwikspell A Correspondence Course in Beginners'
Magic.

Intrigued, Harry flicked the envelope open and pulled out
the sheaf of parchment inside. More curly silver writing on the front page
said: Feel out of step in the world of modern magic? Find yourself making
excuses not to perform simple spells? Ever been taunted for your woeful
wandwork? There is an answer! Kwikspell is an all-new, fail-safe, quick-result,
easy-learn course. Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefited from the
Kwikspell

method! Madam Z. Nettles of Topsham writes: "I had
no memory for incantations and my potions were a family joke! Now, after
a Kwikspell course, I am the center of attention at parties and friends
beg for the recipe of my Scintillation Solution!" Warlock D. J. Prod
of Didsbury says: "My wife used to sneer at my feeble charms, but one
month into your fabulous

Kwikspell course and I succeeded in turning her into a
yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!"

Fascinated, Harry thumbed through the rest of the envelope's
contents. Why on earth did Filch want a Kwikspell course? Did this mean
he wasn't a proper wizard? Harry was just reading "Lesson One: Holding
Your Wand (Some Useful Tips)" when shuffling footsteps outside told
him Filch was coming back. Stuffing the parchment back into the envelope,
Harry threw it back onto the desk just as the door opened.

Filch was looking triumphant. "That vanishing cabinet
was extremely valuable!" he was saying gleefully to Mrs. Norris. "We'll
have Peeves out this time, my sweet -" His eyes fell on Harry and then
darted to the Kwikspell envelope, which, Harry realized too late, was lying
two feet away from where it had started. Filch's pasty face went brick red.
Harry braced himself for a tidal wave of fury. Filch hobbled across to his
desk, snatched up the envelope, and threw it into a drawer. "Have you
- did you read -?" he sputtered./FONT>

"No," Harry lied quickly.

Filch's knobbly hands were twisting together. "If
I thought you'd read my private - not that it's mine - for a friend - be
that as it may - however -"

Harry was staring at him, alarmed; Filch had never looked
madder. His eyes were popping, a tic was going in one of his pouchy cheeks,
and the tartan scarf didn't help.

"Very well - go - and don't breathe a word - not that
- however, if you didn't read - go now,, I have to write up Peeves' report
- go -"

Amazed at his luck, Harry sped out of the office, up the
corridor, and back upstairs. To escape from Filch's office without punishment
was probably some kind of school record.

"Harry! Harry! Did it work?" Nearly Headless
Nick came gliding out of a classroom. Behind him, Harry could see the wreckage
of a large black-and-gold cabinet that appeared to have been dropped from
a great height.

"I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch's
office," said Nick eagerly. "Thought it might distract him -"

"Was that you?" said Harry gratefully. "Yeah,
it worked, I didn't even get detention. Thanks, Nick!"

Chapter: 8

Harry was at the point of telling Ron and Hermione about
Filch and the Kwikspell course when the salamander suddenly whizzed into
the air, emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly round the room.
The sight of Percy bellowing himself hoarse at Fred and George, the spectacular
display of tangerine stars showering from the salamander's mouth, and its
escape into the fire, with accompanying explosions, drove both Filch and
the Kwikspell envelope from Harry's mind.

Chapter: 8

But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.
"Look!"

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached
slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed
on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming
torches. "The chamber of secrets has been opened. enemies of the heir,
beware."

"What's that thing - hanging underneath?" said
Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped - there was
a large puddle of water on the floor; Ron and Hermione grabbed him, and
they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it.
All three of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with
a splash..Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from
the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

For a few seconds, they didn't move. Then Ron said, "Let's
get out of here."

"Shouldn't we try and help -" Harry began awkwardly.

"Trust me," said Ron. "We don't want to
be found here."

Chapter: 8

"What's going on here? What's going on?" Attracted
no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through
the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in
horror.

As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a
flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts
in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart
lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore lay Mrs. Norris on
the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, Ron, and Hermione
exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight,
watching.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an
inch from Mrs. Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon
spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall
was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half
in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying
hard not to smile. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making
suggestions.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her - probably
the Transmogrifian Torture - I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I
wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her . .....

Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking
sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris,
his face in his hands. Much as he detested Filch, Harry couldn't help feeling
a bit sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself If
Dumbledore believed Filch, he would be expelled for sure.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath
and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happened: She continued
to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

". . . I remember something very similar happening
in Ouagadogou," said Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full
story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various
amulets, which cleared the matter up at once ......

The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding
in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair
net.

At last Dumbledore straightened up.

"She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the
number of murders he had prevented.

"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his
fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she all - all stiff and frozen?"

"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore
firmly. "it would take Dark Magic of the most advanced -"

"He did it, he did it!" Filch spat, his pouchy
face purpling. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found - in my
office - he knows I'm a - I'm a -" Filch's face worked horribly. "He
knows I'm a Squib!" he finished.

"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry said loudly,
uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at him, including all the Lockharts
on the walls. "And I don't even know what a Squib is."

"Rubbish!" snarled Filch. "He saw my Kwikspell
letter!"

Chapter: 9

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said
firmly.

Snape looked furious. So did Filch.

"My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his
eyes popping. "I want to see some punishment!"

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore
patiently. "Professer Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes.
As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made
that will revive Mrs. Norris."

Chapter: 9

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," said Ron
slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at
Hogwarts once ... might've been Bill . . . ."

"And what on earth's a Squib?" said Harry.

To his surprise, Ron stifled a snigger.

"Well - it's not funny really - but as it's Filch,
he said. "A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but
hasn't got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards,
but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch's trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell
course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he
hates students so much." Ron gave a satisfied smile. "He's bitter."

Chapter: 9

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but
the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing
the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker
might come back. Harry had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with
Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words
still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn't guarding
the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors,
lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention
for things like "breathing loudly' and "looking happy."

Ginny Weasley seemed very disturbed by Mrs. Norris's fate.
According to Ron, she was a great cat lover.

"But you haven't really got to know Mrs. Norris,"
Ron told her bracingly. "Honestly, we're much better off without her."
Ginny's lip trembled. "Stuff like this doesn't often happen at Hogwarts,"
Ron assured her. "They'll catch the maniac who did it and have him
out of here in no time. I just hope he's got time to Petrify Filch before
he's expelled. I'm only joking -" Ron added hastily as Ginny blanched.

As she spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves
at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped
and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there
was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty

chair stood against the wall bearing the message "The
Chamber of Secrets has been Opened."

"That's where Filch has been keeping guard,"
Ron muttered.

Chapter: 9

He broke off, shuddering. Hermione was obviously still
trying not to laugh. Feeling they had better get off the subject, Harry
said, "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from?
Someone's mopped it up."

"It was about here," said Ron, recovering himself
to walk a few paces past Filch's chair and pointing. "Level with this
door."

Chapter: 9

Harry forced a laugh, watched Percy walk out of sight,
and then headed straight for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He couldn't see
why Ron and Hermione would be in there again, but after making sure that
neither Filch nor any prefects were around, he opened the door and heard
their voices coming from a locked stall.

Chapter: 11

By next morning, however, the snow that had begun in the
night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson
of the term was canceled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves
on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now
that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs.
Norris and Colin Creevey.

Chapter: 11

Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in
talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school.
Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed
purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before the other Gryffindor boys
pointed out that he was in no danger; he was a pure-blood, and therefore
unlikely to be attacked.

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went
on, "Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware.
Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Flich's cat's
attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch
match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing
we know - Creevey's been attacked."

Chapter: 11

Ron was just saying he wished he had asked Hermione how
many rat tails you were supposed to add to a HairRaising Potion when an
angry outburst from the floor above reached their ears.

"That's Filch," Harry muttered as they hurried
up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard.

"- even more work for me! Mopping all night, like
I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore
-"

His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor and
they heard a distant door slam.

They poked their heads around the corner. Filch had clearly
been manning his usual lookout post: They were once again on the spot where
Mrs. Norris had been attacked. They saw at a glance what Filch had been
shouting about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor,
and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning
Myrtle's bathroom. Now that Filch had stopped shouting, they could hear
Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.

"Now what's up with her?" said Ron.

Chapter: 13

"I know that name .... T. M. Riddle got an award for
special services to the school fifty years ago."

"How on earth d'you know that?" said Harry in
amazement.

"Because Filch made me polish his shield about fifty
times in detention," said Ron resentfully. "That was the one I
burped slugs all over. If you'd wiped slime off a name for an hour, you'd
remember it, too."

Chapter: 13

There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and
Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes
were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.

"The moment their acne clears up, they'll be ready
for repotting again," Harry heard her telling Filch kindly one afternoon.
"And after that, it won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing
them. You'll have Mrs. Norris back in no time."

Chapter: 13

"And Mrs. Norris?" he whispered eagerly.

Harry thought hard, picturing the scene on the night of
Halloween.

"The water. . ." he said slowly. "The flood
from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I bet you Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection
. . . ."